


you and i (on the fly)

by capulets



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Ambiguousish Ending, Bold Kie, Don’t Ride Motorcycles While In Love, F/M, It Makes You Think Too Much, Seriously Sorry About These Tags, Subtle Mentions Of Abuse So Be Advised, soft JJ
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:09:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25638571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capulets/pseuds/capulets
Summary: kie’s first motorcycle ride goes better than expected. which is to say that she actually gets ON the motorcycle.or, alternatively, jj takes kie out on his bike for the first time and realizes just how fucked he is.(jiara week day six: firsts day)
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 89
Collections: Jiara July Jubilee





	you and i (on the fly)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, when I was writing this I had no idea where it was gonna go, so I apologize if it seems somewhat tenuously connected. And also rom com ish, I felt inspired after finishing The Kissing Booth 2 (ksjsijs I really needed some cheesiness today!). This is basically just an excuse for some soft JJ, so my bad in general if it’s a little on the ooc side 😂 I rewrote the ending like five times and it still hasn’t settled but I wanted to get this out so that’s just gonna be that 😂🙈❤️ The title comes from one of my favorite musicals, Anastasia. Y’all are basically forcing me to make a tumblr* (*she said with all the love in the world) because I wanna talk to all of you more and fangirl over your works so I’ll drop the @ if it happens! I’ll be catching up on fics in the meantime; for real, all of you are slaying it so hard. Thank you for giving us all this blesséd content. And thank y’all so much for the comments, and for checking this out. Enjoy this short for day six, firsts day.

“Nope, no way,” Kiara says confidently, shaking her head and backing away from JJ, “I’m not doing that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared now,” JJ laughs, almost disbelieving at the sight of her refusal. She’s a badass. More than just a regular badass, Kiara Carrera is a BAMF. He’s known that ever since she yelled in his face fearlessly when he pulled on her hair the first time he saw her. This shouldn’t be a problem and yet, it is.

“You know I’m not a motorcycle person, and even if I was, there’s no way that rides on electricity instead of gas. Taking it out would just increase the carbon emissions even more, and they’re already at really shitty levels.” 

Whatever the fuck that means. No offense to the environment, but JJ only ever really cares about it when Kiara’s talking about it. And even then sometimes it all falls flat. Speaking of, he figures she’s afraid of falling flat on her face, which makes him laugh even harder.

“Dude, for real. I know we need to go save the Earth and the turtles and all of that, but if you’re scared, just say it.” He raises his eyebrows up at her teasingly and she bites down on her lip, scowling. It’s a really random thought, the thought that she’s really cute when she’s denying the hell out of her own fear for some unknown reason. It’s also a really inconvenient thought, so JJ banishes it to that little corner of his brain labeled ‘DON’T FUCKING OPEN’ and leaves it there. 

Eighty five percent of his brain is a locked box filled with shit he has to fight down every day. Five percent is his knowledge of mechanics (which is how he ended up rebuilding the engine of an old Harley and actually getting to keep it). The other ten is jokes of all kinds, everything he _can_ say, and shit that slips out in between. For example, the knowledge that the lip bite is actually kinda hot, even if the pout is still cute territory. But that’s more John B’s area of expertise, and JJ prefers to keep it that way. 

“Fine,” Kiara sighs, her frown intensifying at the sight of his shit eating grin, “I’m not cool with the idea of potentially driving myself into a tree or any general road crashing.”

“That’s all you had to say!” JJ returns, mockingly placating. She shoots him a withering glare and he tosses her a helmet in return.

“We’re still good for a ride though? I haven’t taken her out since you fixed the EFI and it would fucking suck if you had to do it again if this doesn’t work out.”

She slips the helmet on, scoffing at him. His words work like he wants them to. She gripes out as she’s walking towards him, “Please. I fixed it up right; it’s gonna ride fine.” She straddles the back of the bike after he mounts it. She squeaks a little when he revs the engine, covering it with a cough.

He turns his head over his shoulder to find her arms crossed loosely over her chest, nose wrinkled in distaste as exhaust flows out from the pipe. They’re outside the shed near the Chateau which JJ has turned into his workspace for the bike. There’s machine parts and tools scattered all over the place, oily rags shoved into rusty blue metal drawers. It’s nowhere near an actual garage to work in, but it gets the job done. Better than nothing.

“You gonna sit there or are you gonna hold on?”

He indicates with his hand towards her as the bike idles, and Kiara shrugs. She wraps her arms around his waist, putting her lips by his ear and saying, “Try not to enjoy this.” He can hear the tiny smile in her voice, just as he’s certain she can hear the cheeky beam in his when he shoots back, “You should know this is just an excuse to feel your hands on my chest.” She removes one of them, swatting at his shoulder and muttering, “Asshole,” underneath her breath. He’s laughing again, but he sobers up quick enough.

“Good to go, Kie?” he calls back to her.

“All good!” she responds, patting his shoulder twice to reaffirm. The bike lurches forward slightly and she yelps, clutching him close. JJ wants to chuckle, he really does, but the feeling of Kiara’s body pressing against his back and her arms wrapping against him distracts him momentarily. He’s not good with shit like this. Butterflies and skipping heartbeats - pretty sure he’d rather gauge an eye out than own up to how he feels about her. And it’s actually kind of annoying, how easy she makes it to like her. He’s not using any stronger word than that, because if he does that makes it real, and you can’t lose something if it doesn’t exist right? He tells himself to _get a fucking grip_ before heading out onto the road. Kiara’s never ridden a bike before, and the only person he’s taken out on a motorcycle before is Pope (and getting him to agree was _way_ harder than Kiara. Still awesome, but genuinely more effort than anyone who wasn’t as hot as Pope was or another of his best friend’s would’ve received). So it’s a bit of a weird first for them both: first ride, and first girl out on a ride with him. 

The first couple of minutes is sort of rough for Kie; he can tell by the way she’s gripping him. Once the intensity level deescalates from bone crushing to he can kind of feel his ribs, maybe, he starts going faster. He eases her into the speeds and changes but pretty soon he can barely feel her arms around him anymore.

“Think you can go any faster?” She calls out over the wind whipping past them.

“Seriously? You doubting my skills?,” He yells back, half amused, half intrigued. He urges the bike to go faster. It follows his command and he’s reminded of why he loves riding it so much. Not just for the speed and the reckless feelings it stirs up, but because he understands this. He gets this. Historical dates and motifs fly over his head but this is something he understands. Acceleration plus gas equals more speed.

“You got me?” Kiara asks suddenly, and he doesn’t have to think twice before answering, “Yeah.”

_Always._

He isn’t alarmed to feel her rising up slowly, lifting herself past his head ever so slightly. She’s still holding onto his shoulders but he figures if he looks up right now, she’ll be weightless. And maybe he’s the only thing keeping Kiara from leaving the ground but if he’s honest with himself, he knows she could be off in the sky in a minute if she wanted to. She’s holding onto him because she wants too, not because he’s keeping her from anything. That could be the tiny bit of weed he smoked before they went out but he decides to let himself have this moment. 

Kiara lets out a whoop of joy, and he does too. They’re riding his motorcycle and yelling and screaming and if this was anybody else it would be full rom com material. But it’s Kiara and JJ. And he thinks that’s better than any shitty Hallmark storyline. He slows to a stop eventual, before they can get to Figure Eight. Nothing gets to ruin this, especially not Kooks. 

“You seem like a motorcycle person to me,” JJ notes smugly as he dismounts and Kiara throws her helmet at him. He catches it, chuckling before leaning against the bike as it rests up on its kickstand. She got off right when he stopped and stood a few feet away. He holds her helmet, fiddling with it. He traces the scratches, thumbs the dents, taps out a random rhythm against its surface while she speaks.

“I didn’t think I would like it, to be honest. But it’s got a weird rush that’s alright.”

“Are you saying it’s better than climbing into half finished buildings or surfing swells?”

“With you and the other ingrates? Nah.” 

He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, and he catches a similar one forming on hers.

“Still no driving on the way back?”

“Yeah, I’m good on that.”

He concedes the point there and sets the helmet on the seat so he can stretch his arms above his head. Out of the corner of his eye he can see her staring at him and that dumbass part of himself wonders how long they’re gonna do this for. How long he’s gonna call her on it and she’ll put him in his place and _neither_ of them will say _anything_. And by neither of them he definitely means him; there’s no way Kiara likes him like that. She flirts with him because she can and he’s fine with that. Question and rejection, that’s how they roll. 

It’s almost too easy to hand Kiara her helmet when she walks over. They speed off, back the way they came, but JJ’s not oblivious to the new heaviness tingeing their outing. He nearly says something when she hops off the bike, but she’s taking her helmet off and muttering about her parents murdering her when she gets back. He moves to question her before he catches a glimpse of the sky to see it’s dark out now, where it definitely hadn’t been before. He had no idea they’d been gone for as long as they had. That was the Kiara Carrera Effect; she could make him forget shit as basic as his name, or as large as time. He’s had a whole day with her and yet, when he sees her sprinting off, he can’t help himself.

“Kie?” he says, jogging lightly to catch up with her manic adjacent running as she attempts to get to her car.

“JJ?” Kiara returns distractedly, opening the door and buckling up. She rolls down the window and he leans against it, elbows on the edge. She’s staring at him, albeit a little impatiently. And he gets it, he does. She has to go. It takes him a couple of seconds to spit out the words regardless.

“Today was cool.”

She’s looking at him like he’s grown three heads in the last four seconds so he leans forward, head through the window, smirking like a motherfucker as his lips ghost against the shell of her ear and adds, “Bet you’d still be a shit driver, though.”

He moves back when she whacks his head gently, laughing as she’s cursing him underneath her breath. She rolls up the window again and shoves her middle finger at his cheeky grin. JJ heads into the Chateau, claiming his space on the pullout with a beer and way too many thoughts for him to process without alcohol. It must be a new record that only one pops up unbidden. That doesn’t make it any less of a doozy. Because JJ swears, right before he blinked and backed away that Kiara shivered. And if she did, that means he affected her. Then again, it was dark. People always see differently in the dark. In the dark, his dad’s eyes turn red and JJ becomes a punching bag. John B’s become a little listless, lackluster as he encounters the ghost of his father everywhere he turns. Pope’s are relaxed, for once, cool and comical when he’s enjoying his time with the Pogues. Kiara’s eyes are always brighter in the night time. When she’s away from her house and her family, she lights up like a bonfire. They trap whoever’s gaze pulls them in (which has been mostly JJ ever since they were kids). He doesn’t mind; there are definitely worse places to look. And better places, more enticing places but Kie’s his best friend and she deserves better than a few horny glances. He also prefers not to be on the receiving end of a potential smack to the arm when he gets caught and covers himself with a comment. 

He’s never been more relieved to hear the ping of his phone going off with a notification.

_‘Change of plans. Staying at the Chateau tonight.’_

He would normally be happy to hear about this new development, but if she’s coming back so soon, that means she got into a fight with her parents. He doesn’t lift off the pullout when he hears the door creak open, or when he feels the springs creak as Kiara lays down next to him. He’s fairly sure she’s almost asleep when he hears soft sniffling. 

JJ Maybank does _not_ do crying girls. At all. Ever. The last girl who cried around him was technically his mother, and he hated thinking about how bruised her face was, how she swore up and down that _this was the last time._ It was the last time two more times, and then he never saw her again. But the girl beside him isn’t his mother, nor is she some random girl. Besides, if Kiara’s actually crying over something then it’s really bad. He sits there in silence for a few seconds, contemplating how to approach the situation. He doesn’t know when he started to dive right into shit with her, but then again, they rarely go deeper than their jokes and flirtations. After a short while, he settles on a whispered, 

“You good, dude?”

The response is almost immediate, and he can hear her struggling to keep her tone level.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. All good.”

He wants to leave it at that, but some unearthly force has it out for him. That’s the only reason he can think of to explain why a soft, “Kie,” leaves his mouth. They lay beside each other for a couple of minutes, and he’s definitely positive he should’ve left it alone when he feels her moving. She breaks first, shifting her body to face him, biting down harshly on her lip. He turns onto his side to look down at her, not noticing his hand curled into a fist until she’s gently prying his fingers apart and smoothing out his hand instead. And he wants to laugh because _of course_ she’s putting him first. That’s Kiara Carrera for you. Whether it’s saving the environment or carefully wrapping up his smashed pinkie, she puts whatever she feels is worth it in front of her own needs. And while a tiny (read: unfortunately large) part of him warms at the thought that she thinks he’s worth enough to be important, he wishes she’d give herself some more credit. 

In this moment, he has two options. Break down and actually comfort her, or throw out some bullshit line in hopes of rising her spirits a little. His choice is some weird messed up hybrid of the two.

“You wanna learn how to drive tomorrow?” which is code for, “I don’t know what’s going on with you but it sucks that everything’s fucked up so maybe a little rebellion will help.” He knows her parents wouldn’t approve, which is why he offered. Despite how they feel about him, he’d never let anything happen to her. To be honest, he has no idea what she’s going to say. It’s a feeling he’s kind of used to, which is his only comfort in this moment. She takes her time, messing with his fingers and breathing deep before replying, “Yeah. But if I die, I’m coming back to bug the shit out of you as a ghost. Deadass going full haunt. And your karma will be fucked. Forever.” He _thinks_ that’s code for, “Thanks, JJ.” His suspicions are confirmed when she presses herself against him, tucking her head underneath his chin. His arms wind around her automatically, cheek settling on top of her hair. She smells like nature and sea salt and a whole bunch of other earthy things, and it puts him at ease. It also makes him realize he’s _really_ fucked if he’s thinking about how his best friend smells. And that’s a little too pussy whipped for him, so he shrugs against her. 

“I’m too sexy to haunt. You can’t deprive the world of this body by scaring away everyone who sees it. That’s just criminal, Kie, and I’m not going to jail again.” 

Translation: “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?”

She snorts, burrowing down deeper against him, mumbling, “Whatever,” into a yawn. 

Translation: “I know.” 

As JJ drifts off, he has to admit a few things to himself. One, that he’s excited for tomorrow. If her first time on a bike went this well, the second is bound to be even better. She can’t pick up things as fast as he can, but he doesn’t mind spending more time helping her figure it out. Which leads him to a second admittance, that is: He is completely and utterly whipped for Kiara. The ‘DON’T FUCKING OPEN’ corner of his brain is hanging wide for all the world to see, and before he shuts everything down again, he lets his brain go a little wild. It’s not the ideal situation. Far from it, in fact. But it’s what he’s got, and ‘rolling with the punches’ is listed right underneath ‘Oscar worthy liar’ on his mental resume, so he’s got this. 

“Night, Kie,” he whispers, lips ghosting her hair as the shadow of a smile slips onto his lips. A final code before he succumbs to sleep:

“You’re gonna fuckin’ crush it.”


End file.
